


Hijack My Heart

by Xingshou



Series: Best Friends [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of a Valentino deal, Angel and Cherri moron BFFs, Angel is done, Angst, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Cherri is done, Everyone is so don e, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Pining Alastor, Pining Angel, Recreational Drug Use, Sequel, radiodust - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 15:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xingshou/pseuds/Xingshou
Summary: Valentino and Vox are dead. The hotel is running, and Angel's figuring out how to navigate his life free of Valentino's contract. Of course, this is Hell. Nothing is ever simple.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Cherri Bomb (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Best Friends [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218440
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	1. What The Fuck Was That

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a sequel to my story "Oh You're My Best Friend." You should probably read that one first but it's not strictly necessary. The main things to know are Vox and Valentino are dead as doornails and Cherri Bomb has also moved into the hotel.

Angel winced as his phone went off, running a hand through his hair. He was supposed to be back at the hotel over an hour ago – he was sure the text was from Cherri, telling him to get his ass over there already. He glanced up at the three girls working through a pole routine on the stage in front of him. 

“Lookin’ good, ladies!” He shouted, standing from his spot at one of the tables near the back of the now-empty club. “Keep it up, I’ll be right back.” He scurried from the main performance room into a hallway behind the stage, making his way back to his own dressing room as he scrolled through his phone contacts for Cherri’s number. 

The studio and its attached club was a different place since Valentino’s and Vox’s deaths six months ago. The employees had pooled together their resources and created a co-op, everyone having an equal hand in everything. At least, to a point. 

Angel had done his best to extract himself from daily studio dealings, except for a bi-weekly set on the pole, but that was easier said than done. There always seemed to be some question, some problem, some decision that needed to be made, and with Angel being the most senior employee there, he seemed to always find himself drawn back in. 

Now it seemed like he was spending just as much time at the studio and the club as he had when he was with Val, if not more. Despite having constantly watched Val do his job, Angel hadn’t realized quite how much paperwork went with running the place. It was starting to drive him nuts, truth be told – between that and the girls begging him to come up with new choreography for their routines, dealing with diva directors on the porn sets who were unhappy with their “visions” and keeping tabs on regular customers to make sure they weren’t pulling shit on any of the girls, Angel was barely getting any time to get on the pole himself, which was the only reason he had stuck around in the first place. It made him want to scream. 

Letting out a sigh, he flopped into the chair next to his vanity and tapped Cherri’s icon, holding the phone to his ear. She answered after the first ring. 

“Where the fuck are ya, bitch? Princess is yawning her head off, if you don’t get over here soon, we won’t be able to surprise them tonight.” 

“Sorry, Cher Bear,” Angel said, “Somma the girls were pullin’ some diva shit and wanted me to step in, and now there’s this new fuckin’ routine that they can’t seem to get right, and –“ 

“So you’re probably not gonna make it back in the next thirty minutes, then,” Cherri said. “Angel…”   
“I’m sorry,” Angel said, scrubbing at his face, grateful that Cherri hadn’t brought up the fact that this was the third time this had happened this month. “I’ll be back soon. Rain check for the morning? We can make ‘em breakfast too.” 

“Okay. But if you get any more ‘emergency texts’ from those girls, I’m throwing your phone out the window." She hung up without saying goodbye, and Angel sighed, slipping the phone back in his pocket before returning to the club area where thankfully the girls were finishing their routine without a single snippy remark between them. 

“Looks good,” Angel said approvingly, “Keep that up for the weekend and you don’t need me to sit on rehearsals anymore. And please for the love o’ God or whoever learn to deal wit’ your own stupid drama bullshit, okay? I got my own shit to do, ya know!” 

The music started up for another run-through, following Angel and blasting out into the hallway as he made his way to the door. He paused at the narrow staircase that led up to the studio, and further on to the office in the penthouse. That was one place in the studio he couldn’t bring himself to go. He knew it like the back of his hand – the large desk, the velvet couch, the big window – but every time he got fifty feet within the door, a prickle would go up his fur and he’d have to turn around. No matter – he never planned to set foot in that office ever again, anyway. There was the slight problem that a lot of the paperwork needed to run the place was in there, but Angel was doing okay at figuring it out anyway. If anyone asked about it, he just lied and said Val lost it and that they needed to start over with whatever it was he was trying to do. 

The cold evening breeze was welcome as he stepped onto the street. Normally he could ask to have a car brought around, but considering he’d been sitting at that cramped club table for hours, his legs could use the stretch of the walk back to the hotel. He lit up a cigarette as he walked, wondering when he’d gotten so damn responsible. He didn’t have to care about the studio, or the club. They were Valentino’s and Vox’s ventures, after all, and were the settings of some pretty dire times in Angel’s afterlife. 

Still though, the other studio workers were like a second family – annoying bitches that they could be sometimes – and it did feel nice to actually have some power for once. Angel wanted them to keep their jobs and be happy, and it seemed like he was the only one who had spent enough time with Val to have any idea how to keep the place going. So he kept finding himself there, late night into late night, desperately trying to create new choreography while learning things like “accounting.” Ugh. 

The welcoming dull orange glow of the hotel’s windows were a relief as Angel stepped up the driveway. The place had really come to feel like home in the last six months, and he could feel all the tension and annoyance slipping from his shoulders as he slipped in through the door. 

The lobby was dark, everyone either having gone to bed or retired to their rooms to have personal time for the evening. Even Husker’s bar was closed down and locked up for the night. Angel shook his head as he jogged up the stairs – he really was starting to miss social time with the hotel staff. 

The faint sound of thumping music coming from underneath Cherri’s door caught his attention. Night owl as she was, of course Cherri would still be up. He pushed open the door, revealing the cyclops lying on her bed, kicking her feet up in the air, apparently giving a manicure to Fat Nuggets. She smiled as she looked up and spotted him. “Ey! Look who’s home, Nuggies, it’s your mama! Fuckin’ finally.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Angel crossed the room and sat on the bed, patting his lap so Nuggets would crawl into it, ignoring Cherri’s protests that the nail polish wasn’t dry yet. Angel inspected the pig’s hooves with a practiced eye. “Black, huh? Goes with everything.” 

“Thought you’d approve,” Cherri said, rolling over and pulling a joint out of her side drawer, lighting up and taking a hit before passing it over to Angel who took it gratefully. “Bummer you missed your window to give Princess and Vaggie their gift tonight,” she continued, “I was kinda hopin’ I wouldn’t hafta get up early.” 

“I said I was sorry,” Angel said, trying not to sound too irritable. 

“That little boyfriend of yours sat at the bar for a few hours , I think he was waiting for ya. Looked kinda disappointed when I finally told him you weren’t coming. Can’t you get him to get a phone? I don’t wanna be the go-between with you and the Radio Demon.” 

Angel handed the joint back, frowning, “I ain’t – he ain’t my boyfriend! Shut up!” 

“Sure,” Cherri smirked. “So he sits and waits around for everyone, does he?” 

Angel groaned, running his hands through his hair again. Truth be told, he didn’t actually know what he and Alastor were, and at this point, he was starting to get too scared to ask, in case he’d misinterpreted something. It was true they’d been getting… comfortable with each other in the last six months. They often spent time together in the kitchen, discovering a shared passion for cooking and sharing food, as well as a surprisingly shared interest in radio dramas. There had been a few Angel had been following before his death and was delighted to learn Alastor was able to pull them up and broadcast them through his microphone, so Angel could finally hear the ends of stories he’d been missing for seventy years. 

Not to mention if one of them happened to be out of the hotel, it wasn’t uncommon for the other to wait for them to come back and share a drink at the bar, swapping stories and teasing each other. More than once Cherri had mentioned that Alastor seemed to lose the stick up his ass if Angel was around, his smile becoming less of a sharp serial killer’s smile and more of a genuine grin of enjoyment. 

So yes, Angel and the Radio Demon were friends, and maybe even closer than a normal friendship, but they definitely weren’t boyfriends. Definitely not. In any case, Angel didn’t want to let himself hope – he’d been burned far too many times for that. Friendship or not, overlords were tricky. 

“I’m beat,” Angel said, relaxing into Cherri’s pillows, letting Nuggets walk up his stomach to lick at his face, forgetting that Cherri had mentioned the nail polish on the pig’s hooves wasn’t dry yet, “And people say I’m a drama queen. At least those girls are good dancers.” 

“I don’t get why you gotta be holdin’ those girls’ hands all the time,” Cherri said. “Can’t they figure out how to do shit on their own?” 

“Apparently not,” Angel sighed. “And this may shock you, but Vox an’ Val weren’t the best record-keepers, either. Took me two hours of callin’ around to figure out which vendors they had deals with for supplyin’ the booze at the place. It’s not like I really like doin’ this crap, but I want the place to keep goin’, so…” 

It might’ve been easier if Angel had ever been able to bring himself to step into Val’s office and actually looked at any records the moth had left, but he couldn’t, so starting over from scratch it was. He left that part unsaid, though. 

Cherri sighed. “I know. But helping with the hotel too… you’re just – I don’t want you to get run down again, y’know?” 

“I’m doin’ fine,” Angel said, even as his eyelids slid closed. He hadn’t realized he was that tired. 

“Ooh, hey! You should ask Alastor to help with all that invoice and paperwork stuff at the studio, he seems to really love that shit here,” Cherri suggested.

Angel snorted, not bothering to open his eyes. “Somehow I highly doubt that he’d wanna help me figure out a good deal for an industrial sized tub of lube. I ain’t gonna ask for somethin’ I know he’s gonna say no to anyway. I know all that porn shit freaks him out.” 

Cherri continued on, nattering on about something, but Angel was halfway asleep. When he opened his eyes again, it felt like moments later, but he could see the first rays of whatever passed for sunlight in Pentagram city coming through the window, finding himself tangled with Cherri and Fat Nuggets in her blankets.   
He carefully disentangled his limbs from her, one leg getting caught in the sheet and causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor straight on his ass. Fat Nuggets peered over the bed at him, letting out a snort of concern, but Angel held a finger to his lips. 

“Shhh, let’s not wake up Auntie Cherri, okay,” Angel whispered, standing and picking up the pig. “We’ll make her some nice coffee so she won’t kill us for falling asleep on her last night.” 

His boots in one hand, and Fat Nuggets in the other, Angel tiptoed down the hall and down the stairs. He heard some movement in the kitchen and felt a little flutter of hope in his chest, which bloomed into excitement that he immediately tried to suppress when he stepped through the door to find Alastor at the stove.   
Alastor didn’t turn from what he was doing when Angel set Nuggets down and started rummaging in the cupboard for the coffee pot, but his ear did twitch toward the spider in acknowledgment. 

“Up with the sparrows this morning, eh, Angel Dust?” 

“You know it,” Angel yawned. “Accidentally fell asleep all over Cherri, she prolly didn’t appreciate havin’ me rollin’ around stickin’ my feet in her face, so this is apology coffee.” 

“How generous of you,” Alastor said. “I know how possessive you can be of your coffee stash.” 

“Yeah, well, I could say the same for ya, mista kitchen-hog,” Angel said, trying to peer over to the stove, “Whatcha makin’ anyway?” 

“Porridge,” Alastor said, “This oddly cold weather has me craving some.” 

“Ah…” Angel set the coffee pot to percolating and leaned against the counter. “It has been cold I guess. Any idea why?” 

“Why should I know?” Alastor finally turned his head to look at Angel, who blinked. 

“Oh, well, since you’re an overlord an’ all I thought ya might know if, like, Hell was outta whack or somethin’,” Angel said, shrugging his shoulders, “Never mind, it was dumb.” 

“Not at all,” Alastor said, tapping his wooden spoon on the side of the pot to get the excess porridge off before laying it to the side and lowering the heat. “I do have power, it would be logical to assume I might know something, but I assure you I have nothing to do with and no control over the climate of Hell, ‘out of whack’ as it may be. Most likely, it is trying to rebalance itself after the loss of two overlords.” 

“Maybe…” Angel frowned. “But it’s been six months, it’s only been cold for like…two days.” 

“It’s possible these things take time to change and rebalance. Or it’s just a freak chance of weather. Nonetheless, I might recommend you wrap up warmer than your… usual attire… if you head off to the club again this evening. Glitter night, I believe you said it was?” 

“Aw, you remember the club’s schedule?” Angel smirked. 

“No. I made a point of remembering which night Glitter Night was so I can warn Niffty ahead of time before she has a breakdown because you tracked that abominable stuff everywhere.” 

Angel rolled his eyes. “Niffty’s psyche is safe – I ain’t goin’ out tonight. Havin’ a quiet night in, me.” 

“Oh yes? So those coworkers of yours figured out finally how to work together? I find a good ripping off of a head often serves to bring the point home.” 

“Nah, no head rippin’, just a lot of guiltin’,” Angel said. “They’ll be cool without me for one night. I hope.” 

\--- 

By the time the rest of the hotel staff started to filter into the kitchen, Angel was on his fourth cup of coffee and second bowl of porridge (thankfully taken from Alastor who had assured him there wasn’t anything weird in it) – sitting in companiable silence while he scrolled on his phone and the Radio Demon read the newspaper.

Cherri was the last to drag her feet in, yawning. The girl was definitively not a morning person, but she did perk up a bit when Angel passed her a full mug of coffee. Angel sipped his own, looking over the rim at his companions. 

Niffty would make a bigger, buffet style breakfast for all the new residents they had, to be served in the dining room, but Charlie often liked the hotel staff to eat together as a team-building thing. Even though the Princess was still actively working towards his redemption, Angel more or less considered himself a staff member now. He and Cherri had been putting in almost as much time as Charlie and Vaggie did in running the hotel, which reminded him of the little plan they’d cooked up. 

He caught Cherri’s eye, nudging her with his foot under the table. She caught his gaze and nodded, clearing her throat, causing everyone to look up. 

“I know I’m not usually the one makin’ announcements and shit,” Angel said, “But, ah, me an’ Cherri noticed you and Vaggie have been workin’ real hard lately tryin’ to make all the new residents comfortable an’ the club’s been rakin’ it in lately, so… we got you a surprise.” 

“A surprise?” Charlie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she gripped Vaggie’s arm. “I love surprises! Vaggie, a surprise! We love surprises!” 

“I’m aware,” Vaggie laughed a little, and Angel shook his head, amused. 

“C’mon, it’s in the lounge.” 

With Charlie trying to hold in squeals of excitement, Angel and Cherri led her and Vaggie to the lounge where something large and square-shaped sat under a sheet, which Angel ripped off with a ‘ta da!’, revealing a television set beneath. 

The TV had been encased in a dark cherry wood cabinet to go along with the rest of the hotel décor, but there was no doubt that the television itself was state of the art. 

“Oh – Angel – this is amazing!” Charlie squealed, running to the TV and running her hands over it. 

“I can’t take all the credit, it was Cherri’s idea since she heard a buncha the new residents complainin’ about wantin’ a TV in the lounge,” Angel said, “I just provided the cash.” 

“Well then, thanks to both of you,” Vaggie said, “This is actually gonna be really useful –“ 

“Omigosh! Now we can have themed movie nights!” Charlie was practically jumping up and down. “I can plan snacks, and we can have games, and –“

“There’s actually one more thing,” Cherri interrupted before Charlie started describing costume and snack ideas in detail or something, “But it’s just for you and Vaggie, not the whole place.” She reached into her pocket, handing over an envelope, which Vaggie took, her eyes widening at the gift certificate for the spa that was inside. 

“What’s this for?” 

“It’s so ya two broads can finally get a damn day off,” Angel said. “You’re always runnin’ around doin’ shit for us and for the hotel – we figured it’d be nice for you to get a nice day togetha.” 

“Aww,” Charlie placed her hands on her cheeks, “Angel Dust, Cherri, this is sooo amazing! You didn’t have to go to any of this trouble!” 

Angel shrugged, about to say something about his new redeeming qualities and if they might be able to be exchanged at the bar, when a sharp screech of radio feedback interrupted them, the crackling of airwaves thrumming through the air. 

Alastor stood in the doorway, his newspaper tucked under one arm, the other arm pointing to the new television. “ _What_ in Lucifer’s good name is _that_ doing here?” 

“Ah, get with the times, Al,” Angel smirked, “The guests were askin’ for it. ‘Sides, how d’ya know you won’t like it if ya don’t try it? I betcha there’s lots of true crime stuff on there ya’d like – it’s got everythin’!” 

“I can assure you I will not like it and I will not try it,” Alastor sniffed. “It’s bad enough you’re always trying to get me to go to that infernal cinema. I can assure you I’ll still be retiring to do civilized things in the evenings, not staring at that… that… idiot box! I refuse to be in the same room with it.” 

“Don’t mind him,” Vaggie waved a hand as Alastor stalked off to do whatever it was he did during the day, “The rest of the residents are going to love it. Hey – you said it gets anything? There was a soap opera I was following before I died – think we could find it?” 

Angel held up the remote in one hand. “Only one way to find out!” 

\---   
  
“Ya sure ya don’t wanna join us?” Angel asked, leaning in the doorway of the ballroom, the soundtrack from the movie playing on the new television drifting into the hallway behind him. “You’d like this Jaws flick, there’s blood all ova the place.” 

“I should think not,” Alastor said, not looking up from his book. 

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t you kinda takin’ over the TV Demon shit too since Vox bit it?” 

“Thank you for the reminder, Angel. If you’ll remember, it was supposed to be temporary.” 

“You were hopin’ to run the TV shit inta the ground, weren’t ya?” 

Alastor didn’t answer that, but the quick skip of his ever-present radio static gave him away. Angel smirked. “Aw. Sorry, Mista Radio Demon, but things change wit’ or wit’out ya. TV’s just too popular nowadays. Even wit’out Vox’s influence, people are still gonna watch it.”

“Unfortunately.” 

Angel stepped further into the ballroom, shutting the door behind him and settling himself at Alastor’s feet. Alastor did peek over his book at that, one ear twitching in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” 

Angel shrugged. “Once ya done a few a’ Val’s films, watching some broads get torn apart by sharks ain’t that excitin’. I’ll tell ya what is excitin’, though – when ya hero finds himself an’ his trusty horse trapped in a cave that’s ‘boutta be blown up. C’mon, what was it, episode four, right? Don’t leave me hangin’ with a cliffhanger like that.” 

A laugh-track surrounded Alastor as he chuckled at that, reaching out a hand to summon his staff. “Oh, very well, I suppose I could partake in a radio drama tonight.” 

Angel leaned back, letting his eyes half close as the music from the old canned 1940’s radio drama started up, the narrator catching them up to where they’d last left their intrepid hero. He hadn’t felt so completely relaxed in a long time. 

His phone went off, startling him and sending him shooting to his knees, fumbling to turn the notification sound off as texts started flooding through. 

“My,” Alastor said, the radio drama crackling to a stop, “You’re certainly popular this evening.” 

Angel couldn’t help the growl that slipped out as he scrolled through the messages, “These fuckin’ girls are gonna double kill me, I swear! Now they can’t find their fuckin’ costumes, I left ‘em in the – ugh. Sorry, Al, I gotta cut this short before they burn the place down or somethin’.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, his microphone disappearing as he stood up. “I’ll walk you to the door.” 

Angel nodded, allowing Alastor to escort him through the hotel hallways to the main door. “Do remember to wrap up,” Alastor reminded him once they got there. “It’s still rather unseasonably chilly out there.” 

“I’m covered in fur,” Angel said, amused. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

“Still.” Alastor held out a hand, and a red scarf seemed to appear out of nowhere. He moved to wrap it around Angel’s neck, having to somewhat stand on his toes to do so. Angel pulled back a little, blushing, trying to make sure their faces weren’t getting too close. 

“There. That should suit to protect you from the cold, I daresay,” Alastor said. “Have a good evening, Angel, do let me know if you need someone eviscerated for you. It serves wonderfully as a warning.” 

“Uh, right…” Angel said, watching Alastor’s back retreat. He stroked his hand over the end of the scarf, a comfortable warmth heating up in his chest. He wasn’t prepared for the shocking lightning bolt of pain that suddenly went through his heart, sending him to his knees and gasping for air. 

“What the – what the fuck – ah!” He curled in on himself as another spasm of pain went through his chest. What was happening?! He shakily pushed himself to his hands and knees, trembling. By the time he got to his feet, the pain was mostly gone, just the memory of a twinge shooting across his chest. 

He ignored the new succession of text messages as he fled to his room, spooked. The club would just have to function without him for the evening. 

Angel was feeling slightly better when he opened the door to his room, lifting Fat Nuggets up with his lower arms, though he was still trembling, whether from fear or shock he wasn’t sure. He took a few breaths to try to ground himself, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“Nuggets,” he said softly to the pig who was trying to burrow into his lap, “What the fuck was that?”


	2. Dinner, Dancing, and Heart Attacks

“I’m tellin’ ya, it was fuckin’ weird,” Angel said, swirling a spoon around in his coffee to make sure all the sugar wasn’t clumping at the bottom. He sat across from Cherri at their favorite coffee place, the cyclops propping her head in one hand as she listened. “And it hurt – it was like I was havin’ a heart attack, just for a second.” 

“Weird,” Cherri agreed, “I don’t think you can have heart attacks in Hell, right?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Angel said, rubbing at his chest as if the phantom of the pain was still there before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Did you ask Smiles about it?” 

“Why would I ask Alastor?” Angel frowned. “He didn’t have anything to do with it.” 

“You sure about that?” Cherri raised her eyebrow, “You said you felt fine until he said goodbye to you. Maybe it was somethin’ he did.” 

Angel gnawed at his lip, “No, I – Al wouldn’t do that… not on purpose. I don’t think. Would he?” 

Cherri shrugged a shoulder, “It was just a theory. Even if it wasn’t him doin’ it, he might have some kinda answer. He seems to know a lot of things, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess…” 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, right? It was just a fluke?” Angel nodded, and Cherri grinned. “So forget about it then! We got way more fun things to do than worry about that – whaddya say we go do a little target practice? Ever since I moved into the hotel, a buncha scummy little freaks think my territory’s up for grabs.” 

Angel smiled as he finished up his coffee, “Now you’re talkin’ my language.” 

\---   
Angel slung his bat over his shoulder and slowly stalked his way into the alleyway he knew his prey was hiding in. Idiot demon had gone straight for what looked like an easy escape – into an alley that ended in a dead end. 

Sure enough as Angel rounded the corner, the smaller demon was currently scrabbling at the wall that composed the dead end, apparently trying to somehow make his way up it in an attempt to escape. Many demons were some sort of animal – Angel had no clue what this thing was. It was like if an imp got hit by a truck and no one had bothered to move the body until a few plants had grown on it. 

Angel dragged his bat over the brick as he slowly sidled down the darkened alley, watching as the unfortunate demon realized he couldn’t escape and turned to face him. 

“What I wanna know is,” Angel said softly, “Why you an’ your little pals thought ya could just swoop in and make ya claim on my main bitch’s territory. Hm? Did ya think we wouldn’t notice?” He spun his bat in his hand, reaching out with two lower arms to trap the demon against the wall. 

“We – we didn’t know the territory belonged to your friend, Mr. Angel Dust, we swear!” The demon groveled, “If we had we never woulda even bothered!” 

Angel paused, staring down at the demon, confused. People called him a lot of things, but mister was never one of them. Baby doll, slut, hot stuff – but _mister_? 

He pulled his arms back, frowning. The demon took advantage of the momentary lapse, scurrying out of the alley and around the corner. Angel didn’t bother pursuing – they’d gotten the message across, anyway. 

“Amazing the audacity some of these lower level demons have sometimes, isn’t it?” Alastor asked, stepping out of the shadows behind Angel, making the spider shriek and hug his bat to his chest before realizing who’d spoken. 

“Don’t _do_ that!” 

“My apologies,” Alastor said with a slight bow of his head. “Charlie asked when you and Cherri would be returning, so I sent Shadow out to find you, and I thought I may as well follow along to see if you were doing anything… entertaining.” 

“Sorry, Smiles,” Angel said, straightening the cuffs on his jacket, “Looks like ya missed out on the fun this time.” 

“And keep your grimy little imp hands to yourselves next time!” Cherri shouted at someone as she skidded into the alley, grinning as she spotted Angel, her eye flicking curiously to Alastor. 

“When’d you get here?” 

“Just now,” Alastor said. “And don’t cease your friendly little outing on my account. I’m sure a territory battle can be spun some way into a positive for Charlie.” 

“That’s if princess even finds out,” Cherri winked. “What, ya gonna rat on us, radio boy?” 

“Hm… perhaps a little quid pro quo can be arranged,” Alastor said, his eyebrows raising. 

“We ain’t gonna make any deals with ya,” Angel said, placing his hands on his hips. “We already learned our lessons good with makin’ deals, so ya can forget it.” 

“Perish the thought,” Alastor said, summoning his staff and leaning on it. “No, no, it’s more a matter of… a favor of convenience. You see, I made reservations at L’enfer de Fantaisie nearly a decade ago and it completely slipped my mind. It seems now that my name has come up, and it seems awfully gauche to go alone. I thought, perhaps, Angel would like to accompany. If you do, I’ll not breathe a word to Charlie.” 

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Angel said. “An’ ya know, I woulda said yes wit’out the blackmail.” 

“Needs must,” Alastor said, giving him a sharp-toothed smile. “I’ll pick you up at – “ 

“Hey, wait a minute,” Cherri put a hand on her hip, “Angie gets a fancy dinner an’ I don’t? I wanna check out the chic place too!” 

The skip of Alastor’s white noise static indicated he hadn’t been prepared for that, but he recovered himself quickly. “If you can find a suitable companion, I suppose a double date could be enjoyable. If Angel does not object.” 

“Double date wit’ my best bitch and the Radio Demon? ‘Course I’m not gonna object,” Angel said. 

“Excellent,” Alastor said, already starting to melt back into the shadows. “Then I shall see you both this evening.” 

“Yeah – hey, wait, ya didn’t say what time!” Angel rolled his eyes, Alastor already gone. “Fucker.” 

Cherri nudged him in the ribs. “Hey, look at you. A date!” 

Angel snorted, “Yeah, a _double_ date.” 

“So? I’m excited! I wanna see a place you need a ten year reservation for!” 

“Who ya gonna bring, then?” 

Cherri hesitated, “Um… I hadn’t actually thought about that. Know anyone?” 

Angel thought about it, then shrugged, “Er, most of the ones I know are gay guys. Sorry.” 

Cherri pouted, nudging him again as they started to walk to the hotel. “And I thought you’d definitely know someone to hook me up with.” 

“What am I, your pimp?” 

“You wish.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

\--- 

“So someone called you Mister and you’re freaked out about it why?” Molly’s voice floated out over the speakerphone of Angel’s hellphone as he threw things out of his closet, looking for an outfit. 

“Because – it’s just – I dunno!” Angel threw up his upper hands in frustration as he continued to claw through his closet with his lower ones. “Nobody talked to me like that before, I mean, sure people had respect for me and shit as a porn star but I didn’t think anyone was afraid a’ me… I don’t wanna… end up like… him.” 

“Angel, one demon calling you ‘mister’ isn’t gonna turn ya into Valentino,” Molly said. “I think ya might be makin’ a mountain outta a molehill.” 

Angel huffed, holding a red dress up to himself. “Whateva. Anyways, guess what. Alastor asked me out tonight.” 

“That’s great, Angie!” Molly said, and he could practically hear her beaming over the line. “Wish someone would fuckin’ ask me out. Last date I went on was five years ago, rememba, the one wit’ the guy who thought Magic Eight Balls were dangerous and then tried to stick his tongue down my throat in a drive-through. A drive-through, Angie!” 

“Ya sure can pick ‘em, Molls,” Angel smirked. “D’ya think red clashes with pink?” 

“Nah. It’d just be nice to be taken somewhere nice for once…. Y’know?” 

Angel paused, glancing over at his phone sitting on the bed, then to the door where he could hear the heavy beats of Cherri’s music coming from her room. “….Well, it ain’t no horny drive-through, but… ya doin’ anythin’ tonight?” 

\--- 

“I hadn’t known your sister could be so charming,” Alastor said smoothly, walking next to Angel as the little group headed into the downtown area for their dinner reservation. Angel glanced behind them where Molly was laughing it up with Cherri about something. He’d only invited Molly out since it’d been so long since she’d had a nice time, he hadn’t expected her and Cherri to get along so well. 

It could only be a good thing, he decided. Molly and Cherri could both use more female friends in their lives. 

“Yeah, she mighta got all the charm,” Angel said, winking, “But I got all the looks.” 

Alastor chuckled as he reached out to hold the door for Angel and the ladies, “You can be quite charming yourself, my dear. After you.” 

“Damn,” Cherri whistled as she stepped in after Angel, looking around. “Ya weren’t kidding. This place is _fancy_ fancy.” 

For once, Angel was lost for words as he stared around the restaurant. There was a circular, sunken area in the middle, supposedly for couples who wanted to dance as there was a band warming up nearby on a small podium. Several crystal chandeliers decorated a ceiling that looked like it might have been painted by Michelangelo himself. 

Two alternating levels of tables circled the dancefloor, one of which they were quickly whisked to as soon as the imp hosting noticed the Radio Demon waiting with his friends. Molly hung back to catch Angel’s arm as they were guided towards the table. 

“D’ya think we really belong here? It seems… awfully fancy. I mean I know you’re used to the fancy shit wit’ your clients but… I – um…” 

“We were invited, weren’t we?” Angel said. “It’s fine, Molly. Nobody’s judgin’ ya, an’ if they do, I’ll take ‘em out back.” 

“Right,” Molly nodded, smiling as Cherri turned to wave at her, pointing at the chair adjacent to hers. 

Their drinks orders were taken and filled quickly, and Angel barely had time to glance at the menu before the imp waiter was already back to ask what they wanted. Once everyone ordered, Angel was surprised to find Molly and Cherri practically ignoring him and Alastor, deep in conversation about some movie he hadn’t seen. 

He was just preparing to expect a boring night when Alastor turned to survey the band that had finished tuning up and was starting to play a soft waltz. A few demon couples had already headed out to the dance floor. “I’ve seen this little band before,” Alastor said. “Quite satisfactory. Especially for imps. Would you like to dance?” 

Angel blinked a few times, trying to comprehend that. “Wait… what… really? But I thought ya hated all that touchin’ stuff. Kinda hard ta dance wit’out touchin’ ya.” 

“I am not fond of _unexpected touching_ ,” Alastor corrected. “With dancing it is rather expected, after all, and required.” 

“…Uh, well… then, yeah, sure, Smiles,” Angel said, allowing Alastor to take his hand and lead him to the dance floor. “Man, it’s been a while since I did any kinda dancin’ that didn’t involve twerkin’.” 

“If you do that I will erase you.” 

Angel laughed, allowing Alastor to put a hand on the small of his back as he put his own on Alastor’s shoulder, their free hands gripping each other. “I’m kiddin’.” 

He let Alastor move him around the dance floor, feeling a little stiff. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to dance, it was just that he hadn’t danced like this in decades. He cleared his throat, awkward. “So, uh – how’s, ah – bein’… an Overlord workin’ out?” 

Alastor blinked at the attempt at conversation, but answered anyway, “As well as can usually be expected. I’m afraid my usual search for entertainment has stagnated as it usually does, but I’m hopeful it will be rekindled again what with the new additions to the hotel.” 

“Hm… bet I could entertain ya,” Angel grinned suggestively. 

To his surprise, Alastor didn’t pull away at that, instead simply adjusting his grip on the spider. “I guarantee you, Angel, I find you _very_ entertaining.” 

Angel felt himself blush at that, his cheeks and chest heating up pink. He wasn’t ready for the sudden blast of pain that radiated through his heart and down the rest of his body, making him stagger and clutch at his front as he pulled away from Alastor. 

Alastor frowned, cocking his head. “Angel? Are you quite alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine,” Angel said through teeth gritted against the intense pain currently coursing through his body, “Just – just need some air. Yeah. Some air.”

He practically sprinted through the restaurant, willing himself not to fall to his knees and writhe in pain like his body was begging him to. He found his way through a fire exit and collapsed in the alley, leaning against the wall and trying to take deep breaths. Nothing was helping – it felt like his heart was about to explode right out of his chest. 

“Angel?” 

Angel’s head snapped up at the sound of Cherri’s voice. The cyclops was poking her head through the fire door, looking concerned. “Are you okay? Ya raced outta there like all the bats in hell were chasin’ ya. Did that freak say somethin’ weird? ‘Cause if he did, I’ll –“ 

“No, Cherri,” Angel managed to grind out, trying to force himself to his knees and failing, “I dunno what’s wrong… hur- hurts.” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Cherri said, “Maybe – um … maybe painkillers?” 

“Don’t got any…” 

“At the hotel, then?” 

Angel shook his head, trying to take more deep breaths, but his air coming short and sharp, “Too far… I –“ he looked around, suddenly realizing where they were. They were in a familiar neighborhood – a little too familiar, in fact. “Studio’s just around the corner… there’ll be somethin’ there… help me up. Here,” he fished his phone out of his clutch, “Text Molly an’ tell her to tell Al I got sick an’ had ta go home or somethin’… I’ll figure out a way to make it up to him later… shit!” he groaned, staggering again as another stab of pain went through him. 

Cherri took the phone and did as requested before pulling Angel’s arm over her shoulder, forcing him to his feet. “Alright, Angie. Deep breath.” 

\--- 

By the time they made it to the studio, the stabbing, intense pain had faded, leaving Angel with just a dull ache instead. He would’ve almost rather had the harsher pain again rather than have to step through the door he’d successfully avoided for the past six months, but he knew Val’s desk would still hold what he needed. 

“What’s the hold up?” Cherri whispered as he hesitated outside the door. 

“Nothin’, it’s just… nothin’,” Angel said, pushing open the door to Valentino’s office, crossing the threshold and immediately wrapping all of his arms around himself protectively. “Go check the desk. Should be stuff in there.” 

Cherri nodded, hurrying over. Angel almost flopped down on the couch then thought better of it, bypassing it and slumping into a corner on the floor instead. 

“Damn, he had everything!” Cherri whistled, searching through the drawers. “Weed, dust, crack, you name it.” 

“Yeah,” Angel said a little bitterly. “Always had somethin’ whenever I needed a hit. Just grab a joint, Cher.” 

The cyclops obliged, grabbing one for herself as well and plopping down next to Angel, passing him a joint and a lighter. He gratefully took it from her and lit up, leaning his head back as the weed targeted the twinges of pain that were still in his chest. 

“We really gotta figure out what the fuck is goin’ on with ya,” Cherri said. “What if you have an attack in the middle of a pole set or somethin’?” 

“Mm…” Angel wasn’t really listening, closing his eyes. 

Cherri huffed, taking a drag of her own joint and tilting her head to look up at the wall above the couch. “What… what the fuck is that?” 

Angel opened his eyes, following where Cherri’s gaze was looking, to what appeared to just be a block of text with two signatures at the bottom, framed proudly above the couch. He let out a sour laugh. “That would be my contract.” 

“Seriously? He framed it?” 

Angel shrugged. “I think he liked me lookin’ at it. Don’t matter now, really.” 

“I got an idea.” Cherri got to her feet, Angel watching her curiously from the ground. She removed the frame from its place on the wall, raising it over her head before slamming the frame onto the corner of the desk, shattering the glass. 

Angel chuckled – the weed was starting to make him feel better, and watching Cherri wantonly destroy stuff also made him feel better. Especially when it was Val’s stuff. Especially when it was his stupid, fucking, contract – wait a minute. 

He sat up straighter as his mind struggled to catch up with itself. The contract. It couldn’t be the contract… could it? He wouldn’t put it past Valentino to somehow put a clause in there that would keep Angel locked away even if something happened to the moth. Was that the pain he was experiencing? But it had been six months, already… why would it be happening now? 

“Cherri, wait,” Angel pulled himself to his feet, causing Cherri to pause just as she was about to rip the contract in half. 

“What?” 

“Just a wild guess, but I think… maybe… maybe that contract’s got somethin’ ta do wit’ this shit. Hand it ova, lemme look at it.” 

Taking the piece of paper from his friend, Angel skimmed over it; frustratingly, there was no glaring neon message that said, ‘Hey, here’s what’s happening and why!’ He was about to give up when he squinted, noticing tiny writing underneath his and Val’s signed names. The text was so small he’d almost taken it for specks of dirt. Unfortunately, that also meant it was so small he couldn’t read it. He held it out to Cherri. 

“Can ya read this?”

Cherri squinted, but shook her head after a few seconds of trying. “How the fuck does anyone type that small? Who the fuck would be able to read that?” 

Angel rolled up the contract, a new idea forming. “Cher Bear, I think I know someone who can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I admit it I think MollyBomb is cute. It won't be super prominent but... c'mon the girls deserve to have some fun :P

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated if you wish to, and if you want you can find me at Xingshou1 on Twitter.


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